We're what?
by akaJB
Summary: "Marriage isn't actually a problem," Owen interrupts again. "We are married." "What!" ******* Takes place end of FK, before they get in the car.
1. Chapter 1

Just a one shot inspired by the idea of a conversation where someone says to Claire and Owen "You're not even married." to which Owen corrects them and says they are, and Claire is surprised by that fact.

Turns out I can't really write humor... so drama/angst/dealing with life fic.

I'm not super happy with the ending. There is a *very* slight chance I'll do a second part if I can figure out how the conversation they need to have would go. Ideas?

* * *

It felt like one moment, Claire, Owen, Zia, Franklin and Maisie were standing stunned as the dinosaurs were escaping their poisonous prison and the next they were surrounded by flashing lights and people in every uniform imaginable.

It wasn't quite that quick, as after the initial shock of watching the dinosaurs leave wore off, they had taken a moment to regroup. They knew they couldn't just let the dinosaurs go but they also knew there wasn't much the five of them could do on their own. They would need backup. But calling 911 also meant raising a _lot_ of questions, and not all of them were questions they particularly wanted to answer. At least not yet. And for some of them, preferably never.

And Claire, being Claire, took control of the group.

On top of that, Claire didn't want to lie. In her experience, lies always end up spiralling out of control, especially in situations like this, where everything was going to be heavily investigated and questions would be repeated ad nauseam.

But there was one lie she was totally behind. Her first step was getting the five of them in agreement that they wouldn't say how (or more specifically, _who_ ) the dinosaurs got out. Everyone was quick to agree that putting the onus on Maisie was not a good idea. Of course, Claire convinced herself that it wasn't _really_ a lie. It was okay because they weren't going to _lie_ exactly, they were just going to say they didn't see or know what happened.

Maisie had been a little hesitant at first. Thankfully it didn't take much convincing for her to understand just why this was necessary and in her best interest. The shock of the evening also seemed to be settling in, and she seemed happy to have adults around who were willing to take control and make decisions.

Claire's next instruction was directed at Franklin, asking him to check out what the security cameras recorded, and specifically to make sure nothing caught Maisie's action. And if it did, to erase it. She also had Zia take the extra step of wipe down the button and it's casing to remove Maisie's (and her own) fingerprints. Those would just raise questions.

She pushed aside the clone aspect for now, as it was something she really didn't know how she wanted to handle. And since Franklin and Zia didn't even know about it, she didn't want to raise it in front of them yet. It seemed like Owen and her still were in sync on some things, as he didn't raise it either.

Once Claire felt like things were somewhat under control and that they all had their stories straight, she made the call.

The cops arrived first. They were followed almost immediately by fire trucks and EMS.

Then someone decided to call in Animal Control. And, for the first time that evening, she had almost laughed, watching both Owen's _and_ Zia's eyes roll when they showed up. Like someone use to dealing with stray dogs was going to be prepared for a loose T-Rex.

Then the military started to arrive. And search and rescue (although who they were there to rescue wasn't so clear). Soon a helicopter started circling above the estate, giant spotlight focused on the ground below, darting throughout the surrounding forest.

The number of people on site, and the number that continued to flood onto the property, made Claire quickly realize that the news trucks were not going to be far behind. And if there was one thing in her life she was 100% sure about it, it was that she _never_ wanted to have to talk to the news about a dinosaur disaster, again. She was happy to go on the news and promote DPG, but she'd had spent more than her fair share of time dissecting the Jurassic World incident. She did not want to do so with a new one.

Then, someone realized that Maisie was alone. That none of the four adults surrounding here were actually her parents. Or guardians. Or even had any direct relationship to her. And that person, whoever it was, called in the CPS.

When the nondescript car first showed up, Claire was a little confused to see someone else joining the party who _wasn't_ arriving in a uniform or accompanied by flashing lights. She watched as the woman who stepped out of the car was greeted by a police officer, who, after a quick look around, gestured towards Maisie and Franklin who were standing off to the side. Herself, Owen and Zia had all been pulled into various conversations related to incident.

It took her a moment to realize, as the woman approaches Maisie and Franklin, that the woman's gaze was focused specifically on Maisie. And that's when it clicked. CPS.

Great. This was something she hadn't prepared for. Mainly, because, as she was realizing now, she had kind of forgotten that Maisie was a kid in all of this. And, she had just assumed Maisie would go with them. She hadn't thought anyone would question that or that the issue would even come up. And she hadn't wanted to deal with any of the clone issues today, if they could be avoided. Besides, she wasn't quite sure what had happened with Eli Mills, just that they hadn't seen him recently. Or Wu, for that matter.

She watches as the woman steps towards Maisie, reaching out a hand, and finds her feet already moving her in that direction. She can just make out the woman saying to Maisie that she, Maisie, needs to go with her, and tugging on her arm. She can see Franklin reach out and grab hold of Maisie's shoulder, pulling her back slightly, but he's looking around frantically for help.

Maisie's loud cry of "no, let me go," causes her pace to increase and her eyes to drift toward Owen. She sees his head snap around, looking for Maisie at her cry, and the moment that Owen also clues in as to who woman by Maisie is.

And, in hindsight, she should've known that Owen would overreact. There were parts of his childhood he'd love to forget, and as a result of them, he'd had previous interactions with CPS. Interactions where he was in Maisie's position, at the mercy of CPS, and unable to exert any control over his own life. Needless to say, he didn't have fond memories of those times. And now Owen was storming towards them looking almost murderous, practically throwing himself between the two, shielding Maisie with a low, growled, "Let her go."

Maisie has grabbed on to his arm, and is using Owen as a shield, when Claire manages to reach the group. She immediately steps between Owen and the woman, raising her hands, and sending a glare at Owen over her shoulder, as he opens his mouth to say more. Claire's _sure_ whatever is about to come out is _not_ something that's going to help the situation. Once again, she takes on her natural role as leader, ready to mediate a solution.

She allows the basic introductions to happen, before getting straight to the point. She focuses on the end goal that they want, stating, "Maisie's staying with us."

With both her protectors at her side, Maisie creeps around Owen, but stays tucked close to his side. He wraps the arm she use to be hugging around her shoulder protectively, pulling her tight against him.

"With you?" the women looks from Claire to Owen, then over to Franklin and Zia (who has also joined the group). She looks a little confused, as to what the relationship between the four adults is. And who Claire meant by "us."

"The _two_ of us," Claire corrects, gesturing to herself and Owen. It's not until that moment that she realizes she'd assumed the three of them would be sticking together. And she can't _imagine_ Franklin taking care of Maisie, he can barely handle himself. Zia though... Zia would be fine.

"I'm sorry, I was told that there was a young girl here without any guardians. Are you her parents?"

"No," Claire shakes her head, even as she can see out of the corner of her eye Owen starting to nod. She gives him a nudge, shaking her head when he glances at her, and he sighs.

"What's your relationship with the girl?"

"Her name is Maisie," Owen growls.

"Sorry, what's your relationship with Maisie," the caseworker questions again.

"Friend of her grandfather," Claire goes with, deciding it's pretty close to the truth. She _had_ met Benjamin Lockwood a few times, even if they were all business related.

"I'm sorry, but that's not enough. As I understand, her grandfather is dead, and so he can't give approval to you. And I don't suppose you're an official foster family?" The caseworker shakes her head. "She's going to have to come with me while we figure out where to place her."

"We may not be an official-" Claire starts, before Owen interrupts her.

"Oh for fucks sake," Owen surges forward, letting go of Maisie as he does so.

Claire opens her mouth to comment on his language before snapping it shut. If it wasn't for all her years as a business executive, she realizes she'd have said the same thing.

"There is _no one_ , absolutely _NO ONE_ , do you hear me? No one who is more prepared than the two of us to help Maisie with all of this. Tell me, how many 'official' foster families," Claire groans aloud as Owen uses actual air quotes, "do you have that have experience with dinosaurs and dinosaur related trauma? There's no _way_ you're going to be able to find anyone better prepared than the two of us. We've dealt with this before. We can deal with it again. And Maisie _wants_ to stay with us, right Mais?"

All eyes turn to Maisie, who is now standing with Zia, and she nods firmly. "Yes, I don't want to go with Mills."

"Mills?" The caseworker questions the group.

"Eli Mills," Claire clarifies. "We believe he was to become her guardian after her grandfather's passing, but, unfortunately," and she admits to herself, it's hard to actually look like what she's about to say is unfortunate, "he was one of the casualties from tonights... incident." She winces when she hears Maisie gasp at the news. She hadn't wanted her to find out this way, and she had only just found out herself. "I don't know if her grandfather listed anyone after Mills."

The caseworker just frowns at them and sighs. "I don't make the rules, but they're very clear. Children with no official guardians or close relatives must be taken in and placed with a foster _family_. Besides, are you two even married?" Her gaze went down to their hands, both noticeably absent of any wedding rings. "We _never_ release children into the hands of two unrelated individuals."

"Seriously?" After the long day (2? 3?) since this whole nightmare began, she's finally losing her ability to stay calm and collected. "Marriage? That's going to be your excuse? You think _marriage_ affects how well we can take care of her?"

"Like I said, I don't make the rules," the caseworker replied. "If you'll just let me take-"

"Marriage isn't actually a problem," Owen interrupts again. "We _are_ married."

"What?!" Four heads whip around to face him, Claire's showing shock, while the caseworker looks genuinely confused. Franklin and Zia's gazes are now jumping between Claire and Owen in bewilderment. Maisie, who had just assumed they were married the way most kids assume adults who appear together must be married, doesn't look shocked at all.

"No," Claire shakes her head and repeats firmly, "No. We're not." Claire looks at Owen with a _what the hell_ look, wondering what he's playing at.

"Yes, _we are_." Owen nods.

"No," Claire shakes her head again, now sounding exasperated, "we _were."_

 _"_ And we still _are_ ," Owen's now grinning at her.

"I distinctly remember signing divorce papers," Claire replies. "I remember signing them, and I remember putting sticky tabs on them where you needed to sign them, and I remember mailing them to you."

"Yeah, I got them," Owen nods. "I've just never signed them." He pauses. "To be honest, I'm not actually sure where they are right now."

"What?!" Claire screeches, eyes wide.

"I've been busy," Owen's grin grows larger as he shrugs. "It's never been my priority. Besides, if it was _yours_ , you'd think you'd have followed up before now."

"You lit-" Claire cuts herself off, suddenly realizing all the attention this conversation is gathering from the surrounding people. On top of that, she reminds herself that arguing about _this_ is actually going to work _against_ them. Instead, she takes a deep breath, puts on a large (mostly fake) smile, and turns her attention back to the caseworker, who's been watching the two of them with rapt attention. Mind you, so has Maisie, Zia, and Franklin. She pauses to take a couple more deep breaths before shrugging and saying, "Well, there you go. We're married. Does that check off enough boxes for you _now_?"

"Well," the caseworker looks between the two of them, before her gaze falls to Maisie, who has moved back behind Owen, and has once again wrapped her arms tightly around one of his. She sighs, "Let me make a few calls."

The moment the caseworker turns and starts to move away, Claire's attention snaps back to Owen, and she's stomps the couple of steps towards him, with her finger pointing at him. He takes an unsteady step back, almost tripping over Maisie in the process, raising his unencumbered hand in front of him, trying to calm her down.

"We are _going_ to be talking about this," she hisses, her finger now jabbing at him in the middle of his chest.

"No problem, _dear_ ," Owen replies, a corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Zia's shoulders shaking with silent laughter, while Franklin just looks stunned. (Mind you, he's starting to think that's the only expression Franklin has. Well, that and terrified.)

Claire falls silent for a moment, her finger still pushing against his chest, before her arms fall to her side as her shoulders droop. She let's out a long breath before a single word escapes, "Why?"

"You know why," Owen gave a small shrug, his gaze dropping to the ground, before he sighed deeply. He raises his eyes to meet hers. "I couldn't do it, Claire."

"But we're not... you're not... you didn't..." Claire pauses, before finally managing to complete a thought. "It's been a _year_ , Owen. A year. I-" Her gaze darts between him and Maisie, then to Zia and Franklin before back to his. She goes to open her mouth to speak again, before she shakes her head and snaps it closed. She turns on her heel and starts to walk away from them all, needing some space.

And Owen, finally, seems to understand that maybe this conversation isn't something that should have an audience. He loosens his arm from Maisie's grip, and instructs her to stay with Zia, before telling Zia in no uncertain terms, that she is not to let Maisie out of her sight and to definitely _not_ let that woman take her.

Deciding Maisie is as safe as she can be right now, he turns his attention back to Claire, who has moved off to the side of the driveway, and is looking around like she's not sure where to go next. Most of the area is swarming with people. And to venture to far away from the estate, means entering the forest that is currently teeming with dinosaurs.

He squares his shoulders before heading after her. It's not like he hadn't realized this conversation was going to have to happen at some point. Although, _this situation_ , arguing with CPS about a kid, had definitely never come up in any of the hundreds of scenarios he'd imagined.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Claire looks up from where she'd been studying the ground, resolutely trying to ignore the world around her for a moment. If there's one thing a control freak like Claire hates, it's being blindsided. But, at the moment, she's actually more mad at herself than Owen. Why _didn't_ she ever follow up about the papers? It's not like her to just mail something that important and then just forget about it. She's trying not to question her own motives too closely.

Owen moves a little closer, standing beside her, shoulder to shoulder, both facing away from the estate and into the forest, their backs to everyone else. He repeats himself softly, "I'm sorry."

Claire tries to give a shrug to dismiss it, but it's weak. And Owen has always been able to read her too well for that to work anyway.

"I should've told you," Owen stares off into the distance. "I _wanted_ to tell you. The number of times I..." He shakes his head, finally glancing towards her. "I picked up the pen. Multiple times. But every time I went to sign it, I just couldn't do it. And, it wasn't just that. I didn't _want_ to do it. Signing those papers... Signing those papers felt too final. I wasn't ready for it to end."

"I thought it's what you wanted," Claire whispers after a few moments of silence. "You left-"

"Ah ha! So you admit it, _I_ left you," Owen grabs onto her statement gleefully, before catching the death glare Claire is now sending his way. "Right, not the right time for that."

"After you... were gone," Owen gives a small snicker at that, "I never heard from you. Months went by Owen. _Months_. And ... nothing. I figured I was doing the right thing."

Owen sighs, scrubbing his face briefly with his hands, gaze turned back towards the dark forest. How was it that sometimes conversation between the two of them just flowed, like no time had passed and they were still best friends. And then, then there were moments like this, where it felt like anything he said was a landmine, and yet staying quiet wasn't a solution either. "I wanted to. God Claire, I _wanted_ to. But things were different. You were so wrapped up in the DPG. I didn't know where or how or even _if_ I fit into your life anymore. And then when you told me to leave..."

"You _knew_ who I was. Who _I am_ ," Claire finally turns to actually face him, her hand reaching out instinctively for his arm. Owen turns at her touch, their eyes meeting. "I don't know how to _not_ be me. I don't know how to just _drop everything_ , how to live out of a van with no plan. I _love_ what I do. I _believe-"_ Claire pauses, rethinking everything in light of recent events. "I _believed_ in what we were trying to do. And now... Well now, I'm once again responsible for dinosaurs wrecking havoc on innocent people."

Owen reaches down to grab her hands in his, trying to decide what part of that to tackle first. He decides to leave the guilt factor alone for now. After the events of Jurassic World, he already knows that it's going to be a long road to convince her that's not true. "You're right, I _do_ know who you are. But Claire, I _love_ you for who you are. I wasn't trying to change you."

Claire huffs at that remark, shaking her head in disagreement.

"I wasn't," Owen insists. "Do you remember, back on Isla Nublar, before everything went to hell, what I said about relationships?" He continues without waiting for a response. "They're about mutual respect, Claire. Not about control. I was just trying to find that middle ground. I wasn't trying to change you. I wanted us to respect _each other_ -"

"You think I didn't respect you?" Claire looks horrified, taking a step back, pulling her hands away from him.

"What? No," Owen's shaking his head, stepping forward, but she keeps backing away, so he stops. "That's not what I meant. I'm not explaining this well." He's stars at the ground, kicking at a clump of dirt with frustration.

He's so focused on not looking at her, that he misses her raising her hand to brush away the tears that were forming against her control. They're both at a standstill, not sure what to say next and how they can recover from this.

A voice calling out interrupts them, and they both turn around quickly to see the caseworker approaching them, still holding her cell phone to her ear. Claire wipes her eyes again quickly, and this time Owen catches the movement.

"Ms. Dearing, my boss would like to speak with you," the caseworker hands over the phone and Claire looks thankful for the distraction.

"Hello?" She lifts the phone to her ear. "Oh, hi Mr. Goodwin, yes, I absolutely do remember you." Owen watches curiously, as her lips turn into a genuine smile as she listens to the person on the other end, her head nodding as she agrees with the caller with occasional murmurs of agreement. It's not long before she's handing the cell back to the caseworker with a comment of "Mr. Goodwin would like to speak with you again."

Again, Owen, not able to hear the other side of the conversation, just watches as now the caseworker is nodding and murmuring agreements into the phone. She, unlike Claire however, looks a bit more stunned by what's being said. And a few moments later hangs up before turning to the two.

"Well, looks like Mr. Goodwin has agreed to let Maisie stay in your custody, for now. I do have some paperwork I will need you both to fill out. Such as the address of where you'll be staying-"

"San Francisco," Claire replies with out hesitation, before Owen can even open his mouth to offer up his place. It's his turn to snap his mouth shut. It won't help for him to disagree, and besides, the three of them in his trailer would be a really tight fit.

"Okay, great. If you'd just follow me over to the car, we can get this all sorted," without waiting, the caseworker heads to her vehicle. There's a pause as Owen and Claire look at each other, neither sure what to say.

Finally, Owen gestures towards the caseworker and says, "After you."

* * *

They're just finishing up the paperwork, when the caseworker turns to look at the two curiously. "If you don't mind me asking, are you _really_ married?"

"Yes," Owen nods immediately, and Claire joins in the nod a moment later. "Just a small miscommunication," Owen shrugs the earlier conversation away.

"Right," Claire rolls her eyes, but manages to suppress her snort in reaction. Instead, she tries to move on from the conversation, "Thanks so much for sorting this all out."

"Well, it's not final final," the caseworker reminds them. "I'll be coming by in a few days to check on Maisie and see how things are going. Mr. Goodwin wants us to speed up the process of getting you two approved as a foster family."

"Not a problem," Claire agrees with a smile. Owen just nods along. They're so close to being done, he doesn't want to screw anything up now.

The moment the last paper is signed the caseworker is climbing back into her car. It's clear that it's starting to sink in for her, that there are actual _dinosaurs_ wandering around, and she doesn't want to be around there a moment longer than she needs to be.

Claire and Owen give her a quick wave as she drives off, before they turn to look back at Maisie, Zia and Franklin, who are all watching the two of them curiously. Seeing their eyes on them, Zia and Franklin both look away, trying to pretend they weren't staring. But Maisie takes it as an opening, hurrying towards the two.

"What happened? She left. Does that mean she's not taking me?"

"Nope, you're stuck with us for now, kiddo," Owen swings an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a side hug. Maisie's whole body sags with relief, noticeable tension flowing out, as she wraps her arms around Owen to hug him back.

She looks over at Claire, before turning her gaze back up to Owen, eyes wide. "Are you two really married?"

"It's a long story," Owen laughs.

"I've got time," Maisie insists, the three of them walking back towards Franklin and Zia, who, overhearing, both nod eagerly.

"Another day," Owen ignores the looks Zia and Franklin are shooting at both him and Claire. "For now, I don't know about any of you, but I'd like to get out of here."

There are immediately nods of agreement from the other four. "What are your plans?" Zia asks.

"Well, we," Owen gestures between himself, Maisie and Claire, "need to head to San Francisco."

"I hate to ask this," Claire looks apologetic, as her gaze moves between Zia and Franklin. "But, if it's possible, I'd like you both to stay around here for a couple more days, to help sort out our coordination going forward. They're going to need someone who understands dinosaurs," her gaze shifts to Zia, "and some of the dinosaurs may need your help once found." Zia nods in agreement and Claire's gaze moves over to Franklin. "I need you to be on top of our social media and website. Things are going to move fast, and I want _us_ to be controlling the story as much as possible. I'd stay, but I can't. I'll be coordinating everything out of the head office."

Claire reaches for her pocket for her phone, before the events of the last few days start to sink in. "Right. Phones. I have no idea where mine is."

"I've still got mine," Zia holds hers up. "I managed to keep my bag with me."

"Okay, can you make sure Franklin has what he needs? Once I'm back in the office, I'll grab a new for myself and let you know the number."

Owen has taken a step back from the group, Maisie still glued to his side, the two of them watching as Claire transforms back into her leader persona. She's definitely in her element.

Claire's eyes seek out the two of them, "Owen, can you and Maisie go upstairs and see if there's anything you can rescue from her bedroom? Like some clothes? Or favourite... toys?" Her mask of control slips slightly, as she looks unsure as to what Maisie will need. While she enjoys interacting with kids, (especially her nephews, although neither would appreciate being called a kid), she still finds the concept of being responsible for one both daunting and terrifying.

"No problem," Owen nods. "Come on Mais, let's see what we can salvage for now. I bet you'd like to get changed too." He leads the two of them up the stairs towards the entrance.

* * *

The moment they're out of sight, Claire's control slips away completely, and she finds herself half collapsing onto Zia, her friend instinctively supporting her.

"What's up?" Zia looks concerned, never having seen Claire act like this before. The whole evening has been both confusing and eye opening. She hadn't know that Claire had ever been married. And she had never seen her act the way she had around Owen. She'd been awake that whole night in the truck on the boat, keeping a close eye on Blue, worried if she shut her eyes for a moment things would take a turn for the worse. She'd been watching as Claire had cuddled up to Owen in her sleep, the two drifting off as they sat against the side of the truck, falling asleep mid-conversation.

"It's my leg," Claire winced, "the indoraptor-"

At the words, Zia's gaze shoots down to Claire's leg, eyes immediately latching onto the problem, blood still trickling down her leg. It wasn't very noticeable if you didn't know about it, because of Claire's dark pants.

There's a gasp, and Claire and Zia both look up to see Franklin's face turning green. "I'm just going to-" he points off to the side, and they both just nod, as he scurries off.

"Why didn't you say something earlier," Zia demanded.

"It hasn't really been bothering me," Claire sighs. "I kind of forgot it happened. Probably all the adrenaline."

"Yeah," Zia, looks at the wound again. "We need to get that looked at." She half leads, half supports Claire as they head in the direction of the closest ambulance. The EMT spots them coming, and hurries over to assess the situation.

* * *

By the time Owen and Maisie emerge from the house, Claire's almost finished. A roll of gauze is being wrapped around her leg, where, unfortunately, she now looks to be sporting a pair of pants that consist of one full pant leg on her uninjured side, while the leg on her injured side has been cut off above the wound, looking more like shorts.

"Your leg," Maisie gasps, hurrying towards Claire and climbing up to sit beside her.

"I'm okay," Claire dismisses the worry. "They're just about finished."

Owen doesn't say anything, but Claire can see the guilt rising in his face. She knows in the aftermath that he had forgotten about her injury and is now beating himself up about it. She almost manages to pass off the wound as not a big deal, when the EMT speaks up.

"Okay, you'll need to be changing the bandage every 6-8 hours. I'm going to call in a couple of prescriptions for you. One is essentially a stronger form of Polysporin that you need to put on the stitches every time you change the bandaid," Claire sees Owen's face pale at the word stitches, "and the other is a course of antibiotics, just to be on the safe side. However, if the wound starts to look inflamed, you find any pus, or it swells more, or if you start to become nauseous or develop a fever, you need to head to a hospital immediately." Maisie also starts to look a little grossed out when the EMT mentions pus, but she stays sitting beside Claire on the gurney.

"Am I good to go?" Claire asks.

"Yes," the EMT nods, handling over a card. "This is the pharmacy where you can pick up your prescription."

She barely manages to start putting pressure on her good leg in her attempt to stand, when Owen's by her side, reaching out. "Here, let me help you." He reaches for her gently, and pretty much lifts her out of the back of the ambulance, setting her down on her feet. The moment she puts weight on her injured leg, Claire can't help the groan that escapes her. Owen was already ducking under her arm to act as a crutch, but he looks ready to just pick her up now and carry her at the groan.

Claire shakes her head at him, "I can walk." When he looks skeptical at that, she corrects, "fine, I can walk with _some help_."

Maisie has leapt down from the ambulance and moves to Claire's other side, both her and Owen bracketing her in and providing support as they start directing her away from the ambulance.

"Oh," Claire pauses mid limp. "How are we going to get back to San Francisco."

"I found a car," Owen dangles some keys.

"Hey," Maisie interrupts, a scowl on her face.

"Okay, Maisie told me where to find keys to a car," Owen corrects, giving the young girl a grin. "We've already put her stuff in the back and I checked that we've got a full tank of gas. And," He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, waving it around. "I realized I still have my wallet, so we're okay for money."

Claire gives a half hearted nod to what he's saying, as she realizes that she's having trouble staying focused on the present, now that her leg has fully reminded her of it's injury. A light sheen of sweat breaks out across her forehead, but she focuses all her energy in continuing to put one foot in front of the other, not wanting to give up this small piece of control she has left.

She knows that she and Owen still have so much to talk about. That Franklin and the rest of the DPG will be waiting on her for their marching orders. And Maisie. Somehow, she's also got to keep it together for Maisie. And figure out how the hell they're going to deal with her being a _clone_! Actually, scratch that, how is _she_ even going to take care of a kid? She's never even managed to keep a plant alive!

Claire lets out another small groan as her mind starts compiling lists of everything she needs to do, and she feels Owen's arm tighten around her instantly, taking more of her weight. She can feel his concerned gaze on her, but she focuses her own gaze ahead, noticing an older model station wagon in front of them.

"Is _that_ it?" Claire winces at her own tone, realizing how condescending she sounds.

"Sure is," Owen gives a short chuckle, and Claire knows he's reading her mind. "We figured it'll be perfectly inconspicuous. We'll blend right in."

"Unless we fall apart on the road," Claire manages to mutter that under her breath, as Owen stops them beside the front passenger door. She's pretty sure he heard her, but he ignores the comment anyway.

"Okay," he pulls the door open, and helps Claire into the car. "Maisie, you're in the back. Can you hop in? Oh, and Claire, we found you a sweater." He opens the door behind her and pulls out the sweater before handing it over. "We didn't look for pants," he winces, as he glances at her currently half shorts/half pants combo. "We can stop somewhere and pick something up."

Claire pauses after accepting the sweater, taking a moment to take him in, and then twists to look at Maisie. She realizes they've both changed. Well, Maisie has changed, and Owen has managed to find a button up shirt to put on. They're looking much more put together than before. The fact that she didn't notice before is making her realize just how out of it she's feeling. She doesn't think it's her leg, more just the events of the past 24-36 hours catching up with her.

Owen shuts her door before hurrying around to the other side and hoping in, starting it up. "Next stop, San Francisco," he grins in the rear view mirror at Maisie as he starts down the driveway.

Claire leans back in her seat, turning to face the window beside her, staring out blankly into the night. She starts slightly at the feel of Owen's hand gently squeezing her knee, before he rests his hand there lightly.

"Well," he amends, "the next stop will be picking up the prescription. And maybe a hotel for the night. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we'll make it to San Francisco."

Claire turns and gives him a half-hearted smile, trying to express her thanks that he's keeping an upbeat tone and attitude for Maisie, as she knows she's in no shape to do anything at the moment. Tomorrow, she tells herself. Tomorrow, they'll all start to deal.

* * *

The rest of the night passes in a blur. They grab her prescription, some fast food, and Owen and Maisie dart quickly into a 24 hour Walmart while Claire stays in the car to grab some necessities. They get a change of clothes for both Owen and Claire, and some toiletries. And snacks. Owen happily informs Maisie that road trips require junk food. And lots of it.

(He tries not to show his dismay at Maisie's reaction to the chip and candy aisles, as she quickly becomes overwhelmed by all the choices. He focuses on grabbing the snacks he knows that he and Claire like, before adding in some that he remembered loving as a kid.)

They manage to get some sleep in a motel room. Well, Maisie and Claire do, each curled up on a bed. Owen re-enters the room after his shower, and isn't quite sure what to do. He's not sure how Claire would react to him sharing her bed after the revelations of the evening, and he isn't about to join Maisie on hers. In the end, he grabs a pillow off Claire's bed and finds an extra comforter in the closet and curls up (well, attempts to, but he's 6 foot 2) in the stuffed chair in the corner.

He pretends not to notice Claire's expression when she wakes and realizes that he didn't share her bed. He use to be so good at reading her, but now he's not sure if her reaction was relief or shame or hurt. Maybe it was a combination of them all. He busies himself with making sure they've got all their belongings before herding them back out to the car, insisting that they need to get going as they've got a long drive ahead.

Besides a brief stop at the McDonald's drive thru for breakfast, the car remains silent. Everyone sharing stunned looks of shock. And after a night of little sleep, Owen's finding it too difficult to put on a cheery face and upbeat tone.

Their looks only grow deeper, when a screech outside the window attracts their attention and they watch a flock of _Pteranodons_ fly by.

Then it's Owen's turn to almost jumps at unexpected contact, and he glances down to see that Claire has reached over for his hand. He quickly grabs her hand in his, threading their fingers together. A glance in her direction shows she's still staring straight ahead, out the windshield.

He squeezes her hand gently, and when she squeezes back, the corner of his mouth briefly turns up in the hint of a smile. Maybe everything will be alright.


	2. Chapter 2

_So, I wrote this weeks and weeks ago. But wasn't sure if it added to the story. Or if it was too close to Full Circle stuff. But, I've decided to share it anyway. This is the *definite* end of this story. But I've got a couple of other story ideas percolating away and hope to have one sorted out and ready to start posting by the time Full Circle finishes. And, if you haven't read Full Circle, please do. It's the one I'm most proud of. :)_

* * *

It was a week before they had a real moment alone. A week full of awkward moments and stilted conversation.

After their night in the hotel, they had made it to Claire's apartment in the early afternoon. Immediately Claire resumed her role of leader, bossing Owen and Maisie around as they worked to set up the small den area in her one bedroom plus den apartment as a bedroom for Maisie. She sent them on a mission to buy a twin bed and sheets as she struggled with the difficult task of figuring out where she was going to fit her desk and office paraphernalia.

She managed to shove the desk under a window, next to the couch, in the main area. The bookcase stayed in the bedroom, and she cleared off a shelf (by double-stacking books) so that Maisie would have some room. She made a note that they would also need to find a wardrobe of some kind, as there was no closet in the room. The list of things to buy was growing fast.

That night, after a dinner of pizza (no one had any energy to cook), Claire let Owen take on the duties of tucking in Maisie. Maisie had continued to gravitate towards him, and, to be honest, Claire wasn't sure how nighttime routines were supposed to work. But Owen, in his Owen way, always seemed so sure of everything he did. And he didn't hesitate, finding the copy of _Ender's Game_ that they'd bought while out, and squishing onto the bed beside Maisie, flipping to the first page.

Their first awkward moment came a little later as they realized there was only one bed left - Claire's. Claire wasn't sure what to say. Part of her wanted to pull him after her, close the door, and just forget about the past few days. But after the previous night, when he'd chosen a chair over sharing a bed with her, it didn't seem likely he'd be up for that. Also, there was Maisie, and she wasn't sure what the rules were about having sex when there was a kid in the house. What did parents do? She'd never thought about it before. _And_ she didn't have a lock on her door.

Owen didn't look eager to jump into her bed anyway, as his eyes were darting around her apartment, continuing to take it all in. Or, more likely, making sure he didn't have to keep eye contact with her.

"Do you wan-" Claire started.

"Where do you-" Owen said at the same time. They both stopped, and Claire gestured for him to go ahead. "Where do you keep your extra sheets and pillows?" He waved his hand towards the couch, clearly indicating his plan for the night.

Claire bit her lip and swallowed the words she was going to say, before pasting on a smile and replying, "I'll get them." She rushed into her bedroom before the first tears fell. So that's how it was going to be.

The next day he'd taken the car (and Maisie) for a drive out to his cabin. He needed clothes, some of his stuff, and to clean out his trailer fridge. And Maisie hadn't been keen to let him out of her sight for the day.

Claire took it as an opportunity to finally make it into the DPG headquarters, where she was immediately engulfed by media requests and other urgent tasks.

The rest of the week continued in a somewhat similar fashion, with Claire heading to the DPG while Owen took care of Maisie. They would meet back at the apartment in the evening, and Maisie would regale Claire with tales of everything they had done that day. Owen seemed to have latched onto the "be a tourist in your own town" idea, and they were hitting all the key spots - Alcatraz, Fisherman's Wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge and more.

Claire would nod politely and inquire as to what they had planned for the next day. But she generally didn't say much at dinner. Neither Maisie or Owen asked about what was happening at the DPG. She wasn't sure if they didn't want to know or were afraid to hear. It was probably a combination of both.

After dinner, Owen would usually start a movie on Netflix, choosing from all the classics that Maisie still had yet to see, and that Owen insisted a childhood wasn't complete without. While they were getting set, Claire would clean up after the meal. She considered this was probably fair, as Maisie and Owen would cook dinner each night. When she finished, she'd look at the two of them on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them and then over at her desk. She hated that she felt so awkward in her own place, unsure where she fit in this weird family-but-not-family dynamic.

And it wasn't that she didn't fit exactly - Maisie always gave her a hug when she came home, happy to see her. In the morning, Maisie would always ask if Claire could stay home and go with her and Owen on their next adventure. She'd also shyly asked Claire to do her hair one day, and after that, Claire would help her get ready for the day before heading in to work.

She'd meant to join them the first night for a movie, she really did. But her gaze landed on the pile of folded up sheets with the pillow on top, resting in the unoccupied area of the couch, and it felt like a sucker punch. She had turned to her desk instead, burying herself in her work, something she had to admit she had been guilty of doing for too long. It had been just as hard to join them the next night, and soon it was simply routine that she'd sit at her desk and work while they watched.

Once the movie was over, Maisie would brush her teeth and then Owen and her would read another chapter of _Ender's Game._ After that first night, when Owen had asked for sheets for the couch, Claire had made a point of brushing her teeth and completing her nighttime routine while Owen and Maisie read. She'd usually have just enough time to do so, before grabbing her laptop and disappearing into her room, closing her door behind her. She wasn't ready to face Owen one-on-one.

Burying herself in work was easy, as the fallout seemed even bigger than Jurassic World, with new dinosaur sightings happening every day. She knew this habit was part of what drove her and Owen apart in the first place. But she'd always found comfort in work; finding the routine tasks soothing.

She enjoyed competing, and her drive to be the best had moved her up the corporate ladder. Unfortunately, she wasn't good at turning that off at home, and Owen was similar. The result was a series of never-ending arguments, often over mundane things. Both wanting to be right and refusing to concede when they weren't. It wasn't all bad - the passion and heat from their fights bled into their bedroom activities.

When Owen had left, after a disastrous argument that resulted in them yelling at each other about getting a divorce, her sister Karen had chuckled to her over the phone. "Oh Claire-bear. You're both so hot headed. Just give it a couple of days. He'll be back."

But he didn't come back. And so she had followed up with a lawyer, deciding he had meant it.

When he came, willingly, to Isla Nublar, and then didn't want to leave her after the Indoraptor had stabbed her leg, she had thought maybe they were turning a corner. That maybe one of the biggest downfalls of their whole relationship was their hasty move of getting married, and that now that they were divorced and that the pressure was off, maybe they could make it work.

Getting married had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. They had promised each other that they were going to stick together. And how better to commit to that then marriage? They should've realized it was a bad move when their fights started getting bigger. Instead of arguing over dinner or what movie to watch, it was whether Claire would change her last name (she was adamant that she wouldn't, he insisted that she should) or whether they should have kids (both were actually undecided, but you wouldn't know that from the arguments). In the end, she had put her foot down, and said that the name change was a line in the ground she wasn't going to cross. If he was that adamant they have the same last name, then he could change his. They both kept their own.

The arguments increased, as now other people started to weigh in. "Are you pregnant?" Claire would get asked, as if that was the only reason for getting married so quickly. "When are you going to have kids?" "Where are you going to live?" "What are you going to _do_?"

After all the fallout from Jurassic World wrapped up, and before Claire started at the DPG, Owen had started pushing the idea of living in a van and just bumming around for a while. That they had the time and money to take a break and step out of the rat race for a bit. That they could call it an extended honeymoon. They hadn't had one with the lawsuits making it difficult to get away.

Claire had been floundering, not sure what to do, having never _not_ had work to occupy her life. She wasn't a big vacation taker beforehand, and a completely unscheduled future was terrifying. She decided if she was going to do this, she was going to commit to doing so fully. That she would let Owen make all the big decisions and plans. She would follow him for a bit, they'd have their break, and then they would be ready to look to the future.

When she'd made that decision, she hadn't met Zia. Meeting Zia changed everything, as it was that meeting that birthed the idea for the DPG. And with the DPG, she'd found her purpose again. Her self-identity. She knew what she wanted to do. The relief was immense, but all Owen could see, was that she'd found a way away from him.

It had seemed somewhat fitting, in retrospect, that work and dinosaurs both brought them together and tore them apart.

And now, now they were standing in the doorway of her apartment, watching as Maisie left with Zia. Maisie kept looking over her shoulder, as if checking that they were still there. She wasn't keen to leave them, having always had at least _one_ of them in her sight since the incident, but the follow up meeting with the caseworker was happening tomorrow.

The previous night, there had been a knock on her bedroom door, and when Claire had cautiously answered, Owen had opened the door. He didn't enter the room, staying in the doorway, but just said that they should probably talk about the upcoming meeting with the caseworker. Claire had nodded, ready to do so then and there. But Owen had shook his head and asked if she could get Zia to take Maisie for a few hours tomorrow. " _I_ know _us, Claire, and this conversation... well it's unlikely we're going to be able to keep from arguing. And I don't want to wake her up. I don't want her to see that._ "

Claire had just nodded, and messaged Zia, who answered back quickly with a " _sure, no problem_."

That morning, Owen had brought it up over breakfast. Maisie hadn't taken the news well, insisting that she could stay and be quiet. That they wouldn't even notice her there. That she didn't need to leave. That she wanted to stay with them. When that hadn't worked, she had morphed from a quiet little girl into what felt like a monster, throwing a temper tantrum and yelling at them. She would've thrown stuff too, if Owen hadn't been faster than her, grabbing the book from her hand before she could let go, and then grabbing hold of her arms, helping to ground her. It had taken a lot of convincing, and some bribing, before she was, begrudgingly, willing to go. They ended up giving her Owen's phone to take, after carefully showing her how to call Claire's and having her practice. They knew Zia would have her own phone, but this lifeline had been what finally sealed the deal.

And so, they stood in the doorway waving until the elevator doors closed, at which point they sighed and turned back into the apartment, the door falling closed behind them. As was automatic now, they moved apart without thinking, each working to keep their distance unconsciously. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke, before Owen sighed.

"They're not going to let her stay with us if we can't talk to each other."

"I'm not ... _not_ talking to you," Claire replied, cringing at her own use of the double negative, while Owen rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, things haven't been great, but..."

"But what?"

"I don't know what you want from me," Claire finally replied, voice growing louder as she continued. "I don't know how to _do_ this. I don't even know how to act around you. I don't know how to be a parent."

"Claire," Owen sighed again, "all I've ever wanted, all I ever _want,_ is for you to be you. You don't need to _be_ or _do_ anything special."

"No," Claire shook her head, waving her finger at Owen. "Don't say that. It's not true. You may _think_ that, but it's never what you actually want. Me working? That's _who I am_."

"You can be more than work," Owen argued back. "I don't care that you work. It's fine that you love your job. But it shouldn't be the only thing that defines you."

"It always has been."

"No," this time it was Owen who shook his head. "It hasn't. When we were on the road... For a short time, you were more than work."

"That was never going to last," Claire replied. "It was an ... aberration. I _love_ my work. I _want_ to work."

"I get that," Owen nodded. "I do. I just wanted to be..."

"What?"

Owen's head dropped, his gaze finding a spot on the floor, as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously for a moment. Then he raised his eyes, capturing her gaze with his. "I just wanted to be enough. That maybe you wouldn't feel the need to work so much because you'd _want_ to be with me. That you'd _choose_ me."

Claire didn't know what to say, her mouth dropping open to reply, before her jaw slammed shut. A few moments later, she went with the safe option, "We're supposed to be talking about Maisie. Not about us."

"It's the same thing."

"No, it isn't."

"Fine. What do you want to say?"

"We need to decide what to do. I know at the time, it made sense to take Maisie with us. But..."

"But what?" Owen looked at her in surprise. "Are you suggesting that we should let the caseworker take her?"

"What?! No!" Claire shook her head. "She's a ... _clone_ , Owen." Claire hissed the word. "Until we know what was going on in that lab, I don't think we can afford to have her out of our sight. Someone else is bound to know. And it's going to come out sooner or later."

"It's not fair to her if we keep her because she's a clone. She needs a _family_ ," Owen disagreed.

"That's not what I'm..." Claire cut herself off and paused to glare at Owen. "I don't think we should keep her _because_ she's a clone. But we don't know how to take care of a child. How are we supposed to give her a family? We're not even together."

"But we _are_ married," Owen smirked.

"I don't know how you can even joke about that," Claire looked down. "You don't even want to be in the same room as me."

"What?" Owen was shocked. Claire didn't answer, continuing to stare at a spot on the ground. Owen closed the gap between them, reaching out to lightly grasp her chin, tilting her head up until their eyes meet. He was even more surprised to see tears. "What do you mean?"

Claire was embarrassed, and just shook her head, looking off to the side to try and avoid his gaze.

"No," Owen used his other hand to grab her hand. "What do you mean? What were you going to say?"

"You chose a chair," Claire started, before finishing in a whisper that Owen had to strain to hear. "You chose a chair over sharing a bed with me." She paused, and tugging her hand free from his, she backed up a step, wiping away the tears.

"A chair?" Owen looked around the room confused.

"A chair. Then a couch."

Owen's gaze now moved over to the couch before it snapped back to hers. "I didn't choose them over you."

"It doesn't matter," Claire tried to dismiss it. "Anyway, we need to be focused on Maisie. On tomorrow."

"I didn't," Owen insisted.

"Like I said, doesn't matter," Claire dismissed it again, and Owen let it drop for now. "We need to figure out what we're going to say tomorrow. And we should probably think about putting the sheets away. If we're going to present as a married couple..." She trailed off, looking over at the couch.

"Rings!" Owen almost shouted, and Claire's gaze jumped to his. He reached into the neck of his shirt and pulled out his dog tags. He'd taken to wearing them after the Jurassic World incident, telling Claire at the time that he liked the physical connection to his past. She was confused for a moment, before she saw his wedding ring hanging on the chain next to the dog tags. "We should probably be wearing our rings. You still-?" He didn't complete the question and instead focused on pulling his ring off the chain and sliding it back on his finger, before slipping the dog tags back under his collar. He gave her a pointed look when she didn't reply.

"Yeah," she nodded. "They're in my jewelry box." She tilted her head towards the bedroom.

He looked at her expectantly when she didn't move, before gesturing for her to go get them.

"Really?" She gave him an exasperated look.

"I don't want you to forget."

"I'm not going to forget."

"Why won't you just go put them on?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You're so infuriating!"

"Yeah, well you're..." what Claire was about to say is lost, as Owen moved swiftly towards her, tugging her to him and greedily capturing her lips in a kiss.

It's like a switch is flipped, and all of a sudden, it's all memories and routine, and it's heat and chaos. One moment they're still in the main part of the apartment, and the next, they're on the bed, clothes shed along the way. They find themselves unable to hold back, to slow things down, to have any control. And so it's fast and over too quick. They fall apart, both trying to catch their breath, still a bit in shock over what happened.

After a few deep breaths, Claire rolled on to her side, facing him, and said "You know, we still have to talk about it."

Owen turned his head to look at her, and feigned ignorance. "Talk about what? Maisie? We just talked about her."

"Owen."

"Claire."

"Owen."

"..."

"Us ignoring it doesn't make it go away."

"That's true - but ignoring it before means we're still married." Owen grinned at her. Claire went to punch his arm, but he caught her fist, rolling onto his side to face her. "Sorry. Sorry. Okay. Let's talk about it. You go first."

"Why? I don't get why, Owen. I thought you were going to come back. Usually, you came back. But you didn't. And ... and I assumed that meant you meant it. That you wanted the divorce."

"I was trying to give you space. It wasn't a normal fight, Claire. That word had never come up before. And suddenly, we were both screaming it at each other. I didn't know what you wanted. I thought maybe you would need more time."

"I needed you to come back," Claire whispered. "I needed to know you didn't want it. You say you wanted me to choose you. Well I needed _you_ to choose _me_. When you didn't come back..."

"I'm sorry. There's nothing else I can say but I'm sorry. I was going to come back. But then I got a phone call from a lawyer, talking about setting up a meeting to discuss the divorce and..."

"You never even countered it. You could've come back, and we could've talked."

"You went to a lawyer, Claire!" Owen looked pained. "I took that to mean that you really meant it. I didn't think me showing up at the door would make any difference."

"Why didn't you tell me? A year, Owen. You got the papers a year ago."

"What do you want me to say? I don't regret it. Well, I _maybe_ regret not telling you a little." Owen raised his hand, thumb and index finger less than an inch apart.

Claire sighed, "This doesn't fix anything. The problems we had before are _still_ problems. And now we have Maisie to think about too." She sat up, holding the sheet against her chest, and Owen followed, sitting up as well.

"They're not _problems_ ," he insisted, and Claire turned a glare on him. "Okay, they're problems, but what I mean is that they're fixable. Claire, we've always worked best when we're on the same side." He held a finger to her lips when she went to answer him. "I know it won't be easy. I _know_ it's not as simple as snapping my fingers and everything is good. But I _do_ want this." He gestured between them. "I want a life with _you_ , Claire. I want to be a family. You, me, and Maisie." He waved generally towards the rest of the apartment. "I think we could be good for her. And I think she could be good for us."

"I'm not sure we're ready to be parents," Claire whispered.

"I'm not sure we were ready to be married, but we did okay," Owen shrugged. "How is this any different?"

"Owen! We got divorced!"

"Almost," Owen corrected with a cheeky grin. "Like I said, we work best as a team. We _can_ do this. And I really think we should. Just think," he winked at her, "after this Karen will stop bugging you about kids."

"Oh god," Claire moaned, burying her face in her hands. In all the chaos she realized her communication with Karen had been a single text saying: _I'm fine, things are crazy, I'll call you when it calms down a bit._

Owen pulled her hands away from her face and looked at her hopefully. "So, we're going to try this?"

Claire flopped back down on her back and gave him a small grin. "Well, I guess third time's the charm."

Owen smirked down at her before saying, "Does it count as a third time if we never got divorced?"

He prevented her from answering as he shifted over her, quickly dipping his head down to capture her lips with his own.

* * *

So, um, any reactions?


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